


Messenger of the Atreides

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Iliad - Homer
Genre: Angst, Background Achilles/Patroclus, Canon Compliant, M/M, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 16:59:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13617711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: Odysseus tries to persuade Achilles to rejoin the war. Achilles almost wishes he could be persuaded.





	Messenger of the Atreides

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ancslove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancslove/gifts).



When the messengers from the Atreides came to the camp of Achilles, he was not taken entirely by surprise. News travelled fast, and while they did not ask to be taken to Achilles but rather came straight to him, Achilles’ men had seen them at a distance and so brought Achilles word.

Achilles sat with Patroclus on the beach. He played the lyre. He did not know many songs, but more than Patroclus did, although he had always considered Patroclus the sweeter singer. Maybe that was partiality.

“Phoenix, Ajax and Odysseus,” he said to Patroclus. “What do you think?”

Patroclus dug his hands into the sand. “The Atreides have not sent you word before. Although perhaps they might be visiting on their own behalf…”

“They say battle favors the Trojans,” Achilles finished. “So Agamemnon sends word. But does not come himself.”

“Would you meet him if he did?”

Achilles laughed. Then, serious, he said, “Phoenix was a good, safe choice. One might expect me to bend to his word. And Ajax is a respectable man. But Odysseus…pray tell me, what do you think of their sending Odysseus?”

Patroclus didn’t like Odysseus all that much. He never said as much, but they didn’t get along as well as they might have. Whenever Achilles praised Odysseus Patroclus would sit silent, whereas when he insulted Odysseus or complained of him, he would approve. Now he said, “Odysseus is a man of resources.”

“Odysseus is a man of cunning.” Achilles picked up the lyre again and began to play. “Follow my lead tonight, Patroclus.”

“I will.”

And when the men approached them, Achilles acted as surprised as he could.

* * *

 

Patroclus mixed the drinks. Achilles carved the meat. Both of them offered sacrifice to the gods—how could they not, when they were favored as they were? And the gods’ favor so precarious. They ate, and Achilles directed the conversation in whatever way it chose to flow, waiting to see what the visitors might have to say. A courteous host did not inquire first.

Odysseus was wearing fine clothes tonight, he could not help but notice. Ajax and Phoenix had come in their battle gear which was even a little dirty, showing the wearing of war on their clothes as well as their bodies. Desperate, pathetic. Odysseus, on the other hand, had worn fresh clothing, washed and cleaned. Achilles made an effort to lean close to him a couple times and yes, he was wearing some perfume too…a luxury and mostly pointless on battleground. They had perfumes won from various battles, but those were saved for homecoming or given to the women one shared one’s bed with. Achilles actually did wear a little of the perfume from time to time, to please Patroclus, but Odysseus was not that kind of man. Usually.

It was going to be an interesting night.

Phoenix and Ajax glanced at each other. Odysseus cleared his throat. “We’re thankful for your hospitality. Surely this has been a lavish evening.”

Achilles leaned back and put an arm around Patroclus.

“It is hard for us to properly enjoy it,” Odysseus said quietly, “after what the last few days have brought us.”

“After what Hektor has brought you,” Achilles said. “I have heard of his force on the battlefield. But I heard Diomedes has equally been strong.”

“Many of our number have died,” Odysseus said.

They had been dying since before Achilles left. Strong as he was, he had never been able to save everyone. Those who died, died honorably. Good deaths. The kind Achilles used to hope for. Now, he had decided on another fate—to watch how this played out and then spend his days peacefully at home, Patroclus by his side and a woman chosen by his family. It was not glorious but he would take it.

“Agamemnon regrets his words to you. They were spoken in anger. We all do wrong when the gods move us to passion,” Odysseus said. “He is willing to make amends.”

Oh, wasn’t he just. Achilles nodded and smiled. He squeezed Patroclus lightly.

“He sent us to offer you gifts of apology. Unfired tripods. Pounds of gold…”

The list went on for quite a while. Odysseus said all the words just right—enough appreciation in his voice for the greatness of the gift and enough somberness to maintain the tone of apology. Achilles watched how his lips moved as he pronounced the words, how his tongue touched the top of his mouth. Yes, Agamemnon really was desperate. These prizes were more than even Achilles had expected. Had he been a man to be bought, he might have been tempted.

Patroclus leaned into his arm.

“…and so Briseis will be returned to you still as she left,” Odysseus finished. “But if you do not want any of these things, and pride moves you to refuse him, or you still feel anger in your heart, consider us, your brothers. We as well as the Atreides fight on the sands. We fight and we bleed and die, while you are here eating your meat. No matter how just your anger, you might think of Peleus.”

“Peleus?” Bold to mention Achilles’ father. He might have expected that from Phoenix but not from Odysseus.

“Peleus, who told you before you left to put consideration before anger.” Odysseus looked at Achilles steadily until Achilles was forced to meet his eyes. “It might take time for your anger to cool, but by the time that happens, many more will be dead. Your repentance will come too late for many of your companions.”

Repentance, hm?

Achilles took a drink. Then he stood. “You make a fine argument, Odysseus. As you always do.”

“I would be happy and relieved were you to be moved by me. But do not be moved by words, but by the plight of your people.”

His people were the Myrmidons, not Agamemnon’s mess of soldiers. No kinship there but blood spilled. Achilles shook his head. He already knew his answer but he could not say it to Odysseus’ face. His eyes were too earnest. Achilles knew he was a man of manipulation and tricks, but some part of him was sincere. Achilles did not doubt he longed for Achilles’ return, even if it might not truly be for Achilles’ own good.

He turned. “I must think over the things you have said. Stay the night in my camp, if you wish.”

Patroclus followed him out of the tent. Achilles stopped and put a hand on his waist. Murmuring, he said, “Odysseus spoke well.”

“If you decide to return to battle I will join,” Patroclus said. Of course there had never been any question about that, but Achilles appreciated it nonetheless.

“I do not think I can bend to his words. But…I must sleep on it.”

“I will join you.”

Achilles squeezed his hand and then let go of it. “Not tonight.”

“No?”

“Tonight, sleep in the other tent. Iphis will keep you company.” A woman Achilles had won for Patroclus at Skyros, a gift he rarely used.

Patroclus nodded. He would not question Achilles’ choice. Probably he knew what Achilles had in mind, but he would let it be.

* * *

 

As Achilles had expected, Odysseus showed up before Achilles fell asleep.

He had taken off his clothes already before he slipped into the bed beside Achilles. He did not ask permission to do that, merely slid in and wrapped his arms around Achilles’ chest as if it were his right rather than Patroclus’. Not that this was the first time they had slept together. Nevertheless, it was bold. Odysseus, for all his cunning, had an audacity that many would not have expected from him. It was one reason Achilles liked him.

He rubbed against Odysseus’ body, back to his chest. Odysseus rumbled encouragingly. Even though he spoke sweetly he still had a bit of masculine roughness to his voice. Achilles liked that too. He said, “Is this the reason you came tonight? Because you missed me? Missed having me?”

Their affair had never been regular but they rarely rejected each other, either, when one wandered into the other’s tent. Achilles’ absence had disturbed that.

“I told you why I came.” Odysseus’ arms were tight and muscular. But the friction was calling Achilles’ attention more to another part of him.

“How many women did Agamemnon promise me again? It was such a list.” Achilles chuckled slightly and he heard Odysseus laugh with him quietly. Oh yes, stupid Agamemnon. Odysseus would try to pretend he was on Achilles’ side of the joke. “Seven from Lesbos, which I captured for him already. One of his own daughters to marry. My Briseis back—I’m tempted to call her Patroclus’ Briseis. He’s fond of her and she likes him. He wants me to marry her, someday.”

“We all must have our wives, at the end of the day. Patroclus has sense.” Odysseus would praise anyone if it meant pleasing Achilles. But Achilles sighed contentedly. It was true.

“Twenty women from Troy, if the walls ever fall. But my destiny if I fight here is to die here, so all those promises are nothing and he knows it.” Achilles rolled over, and Odysseus accommodated him. “That’s why he sent me a more immediate reward. And he knows I like you. I don’t know why he bothered talking about all those women when he knew I’d want the man.”

“Women are good for some things.”

“Oh, I know you like women.” Achilles kissed Odysseus on the lips, biting down hard. As he did so, he pressed his full body against Odysseus. The curves were familiar and new at once—known to Achilles but not Patroclus’, not the ones he felt every night and therefore still a little exotic. Sex was all about that, the mix of camaraderie and strangeness. Achilles liked both. But as for women… he grasped Odysseus’ cock in his hand, feeling its swell. “Would a woman do this for you?”

“You’d be surprised.”

That was Odysseus, always the sideways remarks. He knew how to push Achilles. Achilles bit into his shoulder and began to stroke his cock. He was hard himself. How could he help it? Tonight, though, he wanted to be…hospitable. He wanted to be generous with Odysseus, who was going to go away empty-handed and probably angry. It would be a long time, most likely, before they shared a bed again, if indeed they ever did. Every day men died on the sands. Odysseus might die soon. And Achilles was going to go home, safe.

Odysseus gasped. Achilles was doing something right then. Pushing melancholy away, he rasped, “I want you inside me tonight.”

Odysseus moaned and shoved Achilles onto his stomach. Achilles pushed him off. “Hold on. There’s oil in the corner.” Olive oil. He and Patroclus kept themselves supplied.

So they fucked.

Afterwards, Achilles said, “Why did Agamemnon send you?”

“He knows we are close.”

And that Achilles would soften for him, one way or another. Odysseus still smelled of perfume, though now the scent was mingled with the stench of sex. But that wouldn’t get Agamemnon what he wanted.

“But I chose to come,” Odysseus finished. “I hoped that I might move you to remember what you have in your heart for us, Achilles. I know that when you are not angry, you love us.”

“I never forget my love for you. There was no need to remind me,” Achilles said, “though I do appreciate the effort.”

And they both laughed a little and Odysseus settled down for sleep. And Achilles curled around him and wondered how, in the morning, he would tell this man that love did not always translate into action, and that he could not forgive Agamemnon. Not for even a thousand similar nights. Tonight, he had spoken sweetly and hidden his anger in his heart—and for what? For a chance to bed an old lover? It had been dishonest. More typical of the man lying beside him than of the brave Achilles.

Tomorrow he would have to explain. Tomorrow he would have to send Odysseus away.

Tonight he would try to ignore his own guilt.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written Iliad fic before so this was a fun first. At first I intended this fic to be much more antagonistic but rereading the book in canon I was reminded that Achilles, while offended by the attempted bribery, really does regret being unable to help the Greeks (even though the only thing stopping him is his own stupid pride and honor). So here's some angst and guilt fic instead. I hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
